Lost Memories
by Pokeyshadow
Summary: After a traumatic event, Neal can't remember what happened. Short, just 4 chpt. Finished.
1. Chapter 1

Peter opened and closed the device several times, eyeing the dried blood smeared on one side. Jumping out of his chair he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Diana, anything?"

"Boss, nothing." Cautiously she entered his office.

"Where's Jones?"

"Following your orders" she replied as Peter paced the small office. He glanced over, seemingly confused, still playing with the tracking device.

"You sent him to the police station to check out a lead."

"Oh." Peter shrugged as he sat down heavily and put the anklet down.

"Do you think he ran?" Diana sat and watched Peter, noting his tired eyes from lack of sleep. He stared at her, with his eyes suddenly wide, full of anger.

"No." Peter stood. "He didn't run. He had no reason to."

"Boss, it was a tough case we just finished."

Peter nodded in agreement. A simple undercover job had turned into much more when it became apparent the mob was involved.

"Maybe his cover was blown."

"No. Neal would have told me." Peter stood. "He got out clean. They had no idea he worked for us."

Diana watched Peter walk out and quickly followed. "Peter, we'll find him."

"I don't want to just find him" Peter countered, turning swiftly. He didn't finish and Diana didn't ask him to. Neal had been missing nearly a week and with each passing day, they were losing hope of finding him alive.

"Peter, go home. Get some sleep."

"I don't need..."

Peter paused as he saw Jones rushing towards him.

"Peter, someone called the station..." Jones stopped to catch his breath. "They said check the storage unit."

Peter swore under his breath. "How many storage units are in the city?" He turned away...

"Wait." Diana grabbed his arm as she exchanged an uneasy look with Jones. "Peter, you're not thinking straight."

He shook his arm free.

"Neal didn't seem right...something happened when he went undercover..."

"So you think the mob has him?"

"I'm not sure."

"Peter, there were storage units near the bust...it's something isn't it?" Jones pleaded.

"Boss, it can't hurt to check them out."

Finally, Peter nodded. "Get a team together and check every one. Call me if you find anything." He watched them leave; both eager to have something to go on, even if it turned out to be nothing. Peter walked back to his office to call Elizabeth; it was going to be another long night.

* * *

Two hours later, Peter raced to the hospital arriving five minutes after the ambulance. Rushing in he almost bumped into Diana.

"How is he?"

"I don't know." Diana pulled her boss towards the waiting room.

"You mentioned blood..."

"Not his" Diana quickly put forth. "Peter there was so much blood in there...even the paramedics said no one could survive..." She shrugged. "I rode with him and they couldn't find any open wounds."

Peter sat. "So there was someone else in there?"

"Seems like it" Diana mumbled as she sat next o him. "We also found a gun next to Neal. Peter, his hands..." She paused, shuddering slightly.

Peter lowered his head, resting it on his palm with a heavy sigh. From what Diana had told him Neal tried desperately to escape and his hands paid a huge price.

Peter glanced up when he heard approaching footsteps.

"Jones."

"I called everyone" Jones said as he paced in front of them. "Peter, do you want me to go back and write this up?"

"No. It can wait. You should both go home." Peter smiled weakly as he glanced at each of them. "I'll call you when I hear something."

"Boss..."

"Diana, I mean it." She hesitated briefly before following Jones out of the small room. Peter stood with a slight groan. And then headed out, looking for a vending machine and a much needed cup of coffee.

An hour later, after two candy bars, a bag of chips and more coffee than Peter would admit to, the doctor approached him.

Peter stood. "How is he?"

"Stable. They're taking him into surgery." He clasped his hands together as he spoke. "A couple of his fingers were torn to the bones...he lifted an eyebrow. "We'll do our best to make his hands functional again."

"Functional?" Peter let out a sigh. "He's an artist, he needs his hands."

"We'll do our best" the doctor repeated stoically.

"What about the blood? Are you sure it didn't come from Neal?"

"No. He has a couple of broken ribs and some bruising along the jaw line but...No. The blood is not his."

Peter swore. "I need to talk to him as soon as I can..."

"He's in no condition to be interrogated..."

"You don't understand" Peter interrupted loudly. "We have another person who's in great danger...I need to know what happened in there."

"At the moment my only concern is my patient...I will let you know when he's out of surgery."

Peter watched him walk away before smashing his empty cup and angrily tossing it in the garbage.

* * *

"Hey hon." Peter opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at his wife.

"What are you doing here?" He sat up straighter.

"I came to see Neal and bring you a proper breakfast." She held up a bag. "How is he?"

"Who knows" he muttered. "Do you think they tell me anything?"

"Sorry." Elizabeth slid down next to her husband and hugged him briefly. "What's the latest?"

"He's out of surgery and in recovery but that was hours ago." Peter stood and tried to stretch out his aching muscles, stopping when a young woman entered.

"Are you here for Neal Caffrey?"

They nodded.

"He's starting to come out of it. Do you want to be there when he wakes up?"

"Of course..."

"Peter you go. I'm thinking the two of us there might be too much."

"I'll call you..." Peter quickly kissed his wife before following the nurse.

Peter entered slowly, allowing his eyes to take in the typical hospital room before settling them on the man in bed.

Neal's eyes were open but he didn't seem fully awake.

"Hey." Peter approached the bed and placed his hand on Neal's arm. "Neal, are you awake?"

The ex-con eyed him before a weak smile swept across his face. "What happened?" he eked out in a hoarse voice.

The last thing Peter wanted to hear. "I was hoping you could tell me" he countered as he gently sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to rest on Neal's chest. "Neal, you've been missing for a week; can you remember how you ended up in the storage unit?"

Neal's eyes narrowed in concentration as he bit his lower lip. "What happened to my hands?" He lifted his arms in panic.

"Peter..." He tried to sit up. "What happened to me?"

"Neal calm down." Peter stood and used both hands to lower his friend.

"Take it easy."

Neal struggled for a few more minutes before the effort grew too much and he drifted back to sleep.

Peter pulled a chair closer and rested his elbows on the bed. He knew Neal needed the rest but he also needed some answers; answers that could only come from the man who claimed he couldn't remember.

* * *

Peter stormed into the office.

"Diana, follow me" he ordered as he passed by.

"How's Neal?"

Peter tossed his briefcase to the side and started his computer. "Boss, did you go home?" Diana noted his rumpled appearance.

"No, I didn't go home. I stayed all day and all night at the hospital."

"And?" she prompted, stepping out of the way as he moved to close the door.

"And, I don't have a clue" Peter put forth with a shrug of his shoulders. "Neal can't remember anything, doesn't want any help and now he doesn't want to be touched."

"Boss, do you think...?" Her voice trailed off.

"No!" Peter answered strongly. "I talked to the doctor and they did a thorough exam, he wasn't raped."

Peter shook his head. "We need to figure how what happened to him."

"We will" Diana assured him. "I do have a few answers."

Peter glanced her way.

"The blood is from a female and the finger prints on the gun were Neal's."

"He didn't shoot anybody. What could have been so traumatic that he can't remember?" Peter stared out the window.

"Boss, we have twenty-four hour surveillance at the storage unit. If anyone goes near it, we'll bring them in."

"Good." Peter plopped into his chair.

"Maybe you should go home, get some rest."

"I can't." Peter leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to work for a few hours and then go back to the hospital."

"I suggest you go home first and take a shower; maybe change your clothes."

"Do I stink?" Peter sniffed the air with a small smile.

Diana chuckled softly. Even with all the mystery surrounding Neal's disappearance, knowing he was alive dramatically changed Peter's disposition.

"Boss, you couldn't pay me to answer that" Diana replied as she made a swift exit.

* * *

Peter opened the door. "Can I come in?"

Neal was sitting in a chair near the window, staring out. He turned and silently nodded; watching as Peter slowly entered holding a bag.

"What's in there?"

"Food" Peter answered, emptying the contents on the tray. "Elizabeth thought some home cooked food would do you some good."

"Sorry about earlier."

Peter stopped and stared at his partner. "I know" he said before continuing his task.

"They freed one of my hands." Neal held up the right one, free of most bandages but noticeably swollen and discolored.

"How does it feel?"

"Odd" Neal admitted, "But all the fingers seem to work." He wriggled them.

"Can you use a spoon?"

Peter moved the tray closer.

"Is the doctor ok with this?"

"Yes" Peter answered. "I called first and you're not on any restrictions. If you finish the soup, there's pot roast also."

"Not that hungry" Neal said as he grabbed the spoon and played with it, until he found a position that didn't hurt.

Peter watched, ready to spring into action if Neal needed help.

"Stop watching me" Neal spit out before spooning some soup into his mouth.

With a quiet sigh Peter pulled over the other chair and turned his attention to the silent TV.

"Did you figure anything out?"

Peter nodded as he glanced his partner's way.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Not sure you're ready."

Neal dropped the spoon and pushed the tray away, causing most of the contents to spill out. "Do you think I'm enjoying this? Come on Peter, I can't remember a whole week and you're going to hold out on me."

Peter stood and patiently filled the bowl with more soup. "Eat and then we'll talk. I'm going to get some coffee." He walked out.

Peter retuned an hour later to find the soup and most of the pot roast gone.

"I thought you weren't hungry." He tossed a candy bar on the tray.

"Peter, what did you find out?"

"Not much" the agent admitted as he opened his own candy bar and took a bite. "The blood found on you and around you came from a female. And the prints on the gun were yours."

Peter held his finger up before Neal opened his mouth. "Before you say anything I don't believe for a minute that you shot a woman."

Neal absorbed Peter's statement with a smile, grateful that the agent had enough faith to believe that he didn't do it.

"Peter, why can't I remember?"

"What did the doctor say?" Peter knew they were bringing in a psychiatrist to talk to Neal.

Neal grabbed the candy, ripping the wrapper open with his mouth.

"That I'll remember when I'm ready. Peter, what if the girl is still alive? We need to find her."

Peter sighed, ready to accept what others had already stated. "Neal, the blood was a few days old. If she's still alive, someone already helped her."

"And if no one did?"

Peter eyed his partner. "Then there's nothing we can do for her."

Neal lowered his head. "I need to know the truth."

"Neal, we both do."

Peter neared his partner, and watched him struggle with the wrapper.

"Can I?" He held his hand out.

"Yeah." Neal released the candy bar and leaned back, drawing his knees in. He accepted the freed bar and started gnawing at an end.

"Mozzie said he'd stay with me."

Peter shrugged; they had argued earlier about Neal going home but he refused Peter's offer to stay at the Burke's. "Good to know" he said evenly as he finished up his coffee. "I should get going." Peter stopped just short of the door.

"Call me if you remember anything."

Neal nodded and watched him leave. He curled up in the chair and went back to gazing out the window, and wondering.


	2. Chapter 2

One week after being found, Neal was home with one hand still partially bandaged. He was doing better than expected but a couple of his fingers were still painful and hard to move.

Peter watched his friend, who sat on the balcony with his eyes closed and the sun beaming down. The agent glanced back at Mozzie, sitting on the sofa with his eyes focused on the book he was reading.

Sighing loudly, Peter opened the door.

"Neal?" The ex-con didn't acknowledge him so Peter took a step closer.

"Hey."

Still being ignored, Peter lightly touched Neal's shoulder.

"Stop ignoring me."

Neal slightly opened one eye and then scooted out from beneath Peter's hand and moved the chair away.

"Sorry." Peter muttered as he took a step back. Neal's dislike of touch had spread to personal space issues and he no longer wanted anyone near him.

"Neal, get dressed and come to work with me."

"Sure." Neal held up his left hand. "I'm not going to be of much use..."

"Neal, stop it." Peter grabbed a chair and sat down. "Sitting here is not going to help."

"I'm a suspect remember? My prints, the gun...lots of blood."

"You are not a suspect...at least not to me" Peter added quietly since Neal already knew the truth. He was a suspect until they figured out what happened or he got his memory back. "Hughes said you can come to work, if you feel up to it."

"I don't." Neal stood and walked towards the ledge. Peter followed.

"Sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help."

"Seems nothing helps" Neal muttered as he leaned against the wall. "Peter, I thought I remembered something..."

"What?" Peter mirrored Neal's position.

"Nothing." Neal turned his gaze towards the skyline. "Peter, what if I shot her?"

"Neal..."

"No. Listen." Neal walked a few steps and turned, facing Peter. "Maybe I was forced too. We know there's a third person involved. What if he held a gun to my head and forced me to shoot her?"

"Neal..." Peter took a step and stopped when his friend held a hand up. "If your scenario is correct you would have died before shooting an innocent person."

"I'm not so sure about that." Neal walked inside.

"I am." Peter followed him in. "Mozzie, what do you think?"

"I don't." The little guy stood. "Not a clue what you're talking about..." His eyes darted back and forth.

"It doesn't matter" Neal said as he walked past them both and out the door.

"Should I follow?" Mozzie asked. "I am the faithful guard dog."

"I never called you that."

"You told me not to take my eyes off of him."

Peter shook his head, trying in vain to quell his anger. "It's for his own good...I give up. I'm going to work. Call me if anything happens." He shot by Mozzie, already dreading the day that had barely begun.

* * *

"Peter!" Diana met him at the door. "I was just about to call you."

"They find something?"

"Someone" Diana countered as they headed towards his office.

"Someone?" Peter flung his briefcase down.

"White male around twenty-five" Diana answered. "He was sneaking around the storage unit..."

"Bring him in." Peter ordered as he headed towards the coffee pot.

"They are. They should be here shortly." Diana allowed Peter a brief moment of silence as he sipped the much needed liquid.

"Where's Neal?"

"He wouldn't come. Says he's not ready." Peter shrugged. "He's worried he shot the victim...Diana, I have no answers...each day he gets weirder."

"Maybe too much Mozzie" she suggested with a slight smile.

Peter chuckled. "Mozzie's odd but he's not contagious." Peter emptied the first cup and poured a second. "Neal needs answers. We all do."

Diana eyed him. "What if the answers are too much for Neal to handle?"

"No." Peter answered bluntly, unwilling to admit the same concern. "Call me when they get here." He walked away.

* * *

If ever Peter wanted to shoot someone, it was now, staring at the man that was sitting before him...

"You got nothing on me..."

"So you've said" Peter interrupted. "What were you doing by that storage unit?"

"Free country. There's no law against walking is there?" He crossed his arms in defiance, smirking at Peter.

The agent stared at him; with his eyes focusing on the huge tattoo that covered most of his right arm.

"Tell me why you were there and I'll consider letting you go."

"I want my lawyer."

"Why?" Peter smiled. "We haven't charged you with anything..." Yet, he silently added, glancing sideways when Diana walked in.

"Boss we got something."

Diana handed him a piece of paper. Peter smiled as he read the new information.

"I think you were right" he whispered to his agent before returning his attention to the suspect.

"So your uncle is Greg Tama?" Peter let that silently sink in. "He goes to jail and you lose your support system."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Mike, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Peter sat and rested his elbows on the table. "Neal went undercover and took your uncle down and you found a way to go after him. Who was the girl and what did you do with her body?"

Peter thought he saw the suspect flinch.

"Diana, get a warrant and check out Mike's place. We're going to sit here and have a nice long chat."

* * *

After the longest five hours of his life, Diana returned looking very solemn. Both Jones and Hughes followed her in.

"Boss, we got it." She held up a card. "We found this in his computer..."

"You have no right..." Mike lunged for the card and Jones tackled him, shoving him back in the chair. Diana pulled Peter to the side.

"He must have had a hidden camera in there."

"You watched it?"

"Only the beginning...Neal was there when he brought the girl in and shot her twice."

Peter quietly swore. "And then he left?"

Diana nodded. "I turned it off after that...I can't imagine...I don't want to watch Neal..." Diana stuttered slightly.

"I understand. Thank you" Peter briefly clasped her shoulder.

"Do you want to talk now?" Peter addressed the young man. "Why did you shoot her and leave her with Neal?"

Mike sat up straighter, the smirk long gone. "Have you ever watched someone die? It's not like the movies...they don't go fast and they don't go peacefully."

"Why?" Peter asked again, loudly.

"And your inside man..." Mike chuckled. "He was clawing at the walls trying to escape and she begged him for help..." he paused with a slight smile. "In the end, there was nothing he could do but hold her...it was actually rather sweet..."

Peter slammed his hand on the table. "Who was the girl?"

"My girlfriend" Mike answered, laughing at the look on Peter's face.

"She caught him red handed going through my uncle's desk and he talked her into keeping quiet." He shrugged.

"And then she confessed to me...and I figured they both needed to pay. You don't mess with my family and get away with it."

Peter glanced at his team and his boss but no one would look him in the eye.

"And you watched the whole thing?"

"Hey. Reality TV. Doesn't get any better."

Peter lunged and both Jones and Hughes held him. "Peter, don't." Hughes whispered. "Calm down or you're out of here."

Peter nodded and shook himself free. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, allowing himself a few minutes to regain his composure. Now was the time for answers, dealing with Neal would come later.

"So you watched her die and then you came back for the body?"

"I figured she deserved a proper burial." Mike shrugged. "Your man wasn't in the best shape to fight me...I didn't give him much food and water." He pointed to the memory card. "You should watch that..."

"Shut up."

"I thought you wanted answers..."

"Why'd you leave the gun?" Hughes asked as he pushed Peter slightly to the side.

"Who are you?"

"I'm asking the questions and you better answer." Even at his age, Hughes was still an imposing figure. "The less you cooperate the more time you'll do."

Mike shrugged. "I was feeling merciful...figured he could end his misery if he wanted."

An awkward silence filled the room; they all knew Neal's prints were on the gun so at some point he must have thought about pulling the trigger.

"But you called us" Peter said incredulously. "We would not have found him without the tip. Why?"

"Are you dense?" Mike asked, smiling broadly. "Dying would have been too easy. I wanted him to live and suffer..."

"Jones, get him out of here." Hughes ordered as he blocked Peter from doing anything stupid. "I want everything by the book, got it?" Jones nodded as he pulled Mike up and pushed him out of the room. Diana briefly glanced at Peter before following them out.

"Are you ok?" Hughes asked.

"No." Peter admitted as he slumped heavily in the chair, with the card still in his hands.

"Are you going to watch that?"

Peter shrugged.

"Peter, say the word and we can have that erased after he shoots the girl. No one has to see what Neal went through."

"Thank you." Peter took a deep breath before eyeing his boss. "It might be better if Neal never remembers what happened in there."

Peter's phone rang and he looked at the number.

"Mozzie what is it?"

Peter stood. "Calm down. What happened to Neal?" Peter headed towards the door. "Stay with him, I'm on my way."

Peter looked at his boss. "Too late...Neal remembers."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N In case this seems like the end, there is one more chapter. I apologize if this feels rushed but I never meant for this to be more than a one shot that got a little too long.

* * *

Three weeks had gone by and Peter spent most of his waking hours worrying about Neal and wondering how he was doing. He knew what the doctors said but he needed to see for himself, and finally that day had come.

Out of the blue, he received a phone call from Neal's doctor telling him that Neal was ready for a visit and he wanted to see Peter.

He arrived early, anxious and somewhat afraid with that night still vivid in his mind... the nightmares continued and Peter would wake up yelling, scaring both Elizabeth and the dog.

That night; he had driven like a mad man and he arrived at the mansion to find Neal trying to claw his way out of the bathroom, once again trapped in the storage unit and unable to process that he was reliving the past. Peter had tried to reason with him and keep Neal from harming himself but in the end, a frantic call to 911 had brought the help they needed.

It took three of them to keep Neal still enough to administer the drugs and another harrowing ten minutes until they finally took effect.

Peter didn't think he'd ever forget the look on his friend's face...complete horror and desperation...he didn't need to watch the video to know what Neal went through. The card was still in his possession, unwatched, and he wasn't sure if he was going to tell Neal about it.

Peter fussed with the bag next to him; Elizabeth had insisted he bring some cookies with him...why he wasn't sure. Neal wasn't a child and he doubted homemade cookies were going to soothe the inner child and make things better.

But instead of arguing, he wrapped them up and helped himself to a few on the drive to the hospital.

The time came and passed and Peter started to worry. He approached the desk when he heard his name being called.

"Sorry, running a little late." The young woman held her hand out. "I'm Mary and I'll take you to Neal's room."

Peter smiled and took her hand before walking back to retrieve his package. "Just some cookies" he quietly said. "Hope that's ok."

"It's fine." She headed towards a set of doors with Peter following. Peter noticed the locks on those doors and the next set they went through. Finally they arrived at a quiet corridor with ten rooms.

"Most of the patients are confined to their rooms until they show some progress. Neal is doing great and should be out of here next week."

Peter raised an eyebrow; surprised but happy to hear how well Neal was doing. Mary stopped in front of one door.

"He has a four hour pass if you choose to take him out for a while." She shrugged. "He's turned down every attempt to get him outside but asking for a visitor is a big step. Maybe he'll say yes to you."

"I'll try" Peter retorted as he watched Mary unlock the door.

"I know it looks bad but the locks are for everyone's safety." She smiled up at Peter. "I'll be at the nurse's desk if you need me."

Peter opened the door slowly and with much trepidation, unsure of what to expect on the other side.

"Hey Neal." Peter did his best to smile.

Neal was seated in the lone chair. "Peter." He stood but refused to near the agent.

"How are you?"

"Better."

Peter studied his friend; dressed in a pair of knee length shorts and a blue t-shirt he looked like himself and that was the best Peter could hope for. Two fingers on his left hand were still taped up but even those were doing better.

Neal watched Peter with a small smile playing on his face. "I haven't changed in three weeks" he remarked and then noticed the bag.

"What's that?"

"Cookies" Peter answered, somewhat embarrassed. "Elizabeth's doing" he added with a nervous chuckle.

"Tell her I said thank you."

Peter nodded as his took in the small room. He eyed a few cards on the end table and a small brown bear lying in bed. "Who sent you that?"

"Mozzie."

Peter smiled. "Did it come with an escape kit?"

Neal shook his head. "Mozzie is still pretty messed up. He told me to stay here until I got better." Neal shrugged. "He also said you and Elizabeth have been keeping an eye on him."

"Mostly Elizabeth" Peter admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Sorry about that night" Neal quietly said as he seated himself on the floor with his back against the wall.

Peter followed suit; he sat against the wall on the opposite side allowing Neal the room he figured he still needed.

"Do you remember?"

Neal nodded. "I couldn't stop what I was doing, even if I wanted to. Thank you for being there..."

"No problem."

"I'm getting out of here soon."

"So I've heard."

Neal drew his knees up while keeping his eyes on Peter; silently grateful that the agent seemed to be as nervous as he felt.

"Peter...I'm ok if going back to jail is the next step."

Peter sat up straighter. "Who said anything about jail?"

Neal shrugged. "I'm not sure I'll be useful at work..."

"There are always files to go through."

"Peter, sometimes I start crying for no reason..." Neal paused, watching Peter's reaction.

"We'll deal with that."

"I don't think cowboy up is going to work."

Peter laughed. "I'll try to broaden my vocabulary."

"You hate crying."

"Neal, I'll do my best. That is no reason to even consider sending you back to jail. Not an option."

Neal seemed to relax with that topic out of the way. He took a deep breath and stretched out his legs, allowing a companionable silence to engulf them.

"Can I borrow you for a while?" Neal asked as he tried to get more comfortable on the hard floor.

"Borrow me?"

Neal nodded. "Nights can be rough and I think Mozzie is too shook up to stay with me."

"He's not the only one" Peter quietly said as he glanced sideways, away from Neal's gaze.

"I think you should stay with us..."

"No." Neal said firmly. "I can't have Elizabeth see me..."

"Neal..."

"No" Neal repeated, much louder.

"Neal..." Peter began, just as loud, "I need my wife, ok?"

Neal looked away.

"We'll do it for a week and if you still don't want to be alone you'll stay with us...deal?"

Neal refused to look his way.

"You can sleep downstairs and we'll keep our door closed. Hopefully it doesn't come to that."

Neal again drew his legs up and rested his head on his knees.

"Neal, please look at me."

The ex-con raised his head and briefly made eye contact with Peter.

"Elizabeth cares about you and she understands what you went through. You will not be alone until you're ready. I promise." Peter raised his right hand. "OK?"

Finally Neal nodded.

Peter waited and wondered what Neal was looking for with this conversation. He felt like he was back in school and every question had a right answer. Neal seemed to be searching for something.

"Mozzie said you got the guy."

Peter nodded.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I do."

More silence followed.

"I couldn't do it."

"Do what Neal?"

The ex-con chuckled nervously. "I thought I was going to die but I couldn't kill myself."

Peter stayed quiet, waiting for Neal to go on.

'I knew you'd find me and I didn't want you finding me like that."

"Thank you" Peter whispered. "You should have told me the girl caught you."

"I thought I talked my way out of it..."

"Not good enough..."

"Peter, I'm sorry. I screwed up and that girl paid with her life."

"Neal you didn't kill her and no one is blaming you."

"I blame myself."

"Well..." Peter took a deep breath. "Neal, I don't blame you. It was her psycho boyfriend who shot her and let her die..."

"And left me to watch" Neal finished. "I tried to get us out of there." He held up his left hand; and the two fingers that might never work right again. "Peter, it took three days for her to bleed to death and she begged me to help her. There was nothing I could..." his voice cracked and even in the distance Peter could see the tears welling up in Neal's eyes.

The agent started to stand.

"No." Neal held his hand up and waited for Peter to settle himself back against the wall. Neal wiped his eyes with his t-shirt.

"Maybe someday I'll forgive myself but for now I can't. And I need you to understand that."

Peter nodded. "I do Neal. Believe me I understand."

"Thank you." Neal stood, stretched his legs and walked towards Peter; he sat and settled himself next to the agent.

"Did I pass?" Peter asked with a straight face.

Neal laughed and leaned towards Peter, hiding his face against the agent's shoulder.

"Can I move?" Peter asked, still unsure of the rules. He heard what he thought was a muffled yes and freed his trapped arm, wrapping it around Neal, drawing the ex-con closer.

Neal didn't protest and after three weeks of worrying Peter didn't care; he rested his chin on Neal's head and closed his eyes, grateful that Neal was still alive and ready to start living again.

After a few minutes Neal pulled away but he didn't stray far.

"Neal, there's something you need to know."

Peter shifted uncomfortably.

"What is it?"

Peter took a deep breath. "That creep had a hidden camera in the storage unit."

Neal's gasp was the only clue that he had heard what Peter said. Beyond that he remained silent.

"Neal?"

"Did you watch?"

"No." Peter answered. "No one has seen it and no one will. The only evidence we need is what he did to you and the girl. The rest can be erased."

Neal brought his knees up and leaned against Peter as he struggled to digest the news.

"Neal?"

"Watch it if you want and then destroy it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Neal played with the tape on his fingers. "On those bad days I need you to understand...but no one else. Promise me that."

"I promise."

Peter's stomach rumbled and he glanced at his watch; surprised to see it was nearly lunch time.

"Neal, are you hungry?"

"A little bit" he admitted.

"We can go out for lunch. How does a greasy burger and fries sound?"

"That's what you want" Neal countered.

"OK, we'll go where you want. Name the place."

"Peter, I'm not ready..."

"It's just food. We can eat in the car."

Peter stood, and groaned as his aching muscles protested. He held his hand out and hauled Neal to his feet. "Baby steps and it starts now."

"Fine" Neal agreed as he searched for his shoes and a baseball cap.

Peter opened the door and motioned Neal through with a weary smile; baby steps for both of them.

* * *

Three weeks later Neal was back at work and for the most part doing ok. He had his moments and a couple of time he'd barge in and sit on the floor behind Peter's desk.

Peter didn't question him and when he was ready Neal would leave.

"Peter." Neal walked in and leaned against the desk.

"Did you forget how to knock?"

"Sorry." Neal walked out, knocked and then came back in. "Better?"

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the smile away.

"You're allowing Jones to go undercover. Peter, bonds are my specialty."

"No." Peter stood. "I don't think you're ready for that."

"Peter I am. How will we know if I don't try?"

It was the truth and Peter knew it.

"Fine. But I'll be your partner."

"Peter..."

"Don't." Peter waved his finger. "You are not going in alone. If you want to go, I go with you."

Neal sighed. "I get to do the talking. You'll be the silent partner."

"Whatever. Now get out." He watched Neal rush down the stairs, eager to give Jones the news.

"Back to normal" Peter whispered as he slowly sat down.

Peter smiled. Just how he wanted it.


	4. Chapter 4

Neal opened his eyes, blinked twice until he could finally focus on the small, digital clock next to his bed. It was the middle of the night...then he heard the knock again. And a voice.

June!

Neal jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of pants. Struggling with his t-shirt he opened the door, somewhat out of breath.

"I'm sorry Neal" the older lady whispered, "but you have to come downstairs."

"June, what's wrong?"

"Peter's downstairs..."

"What?" Neal shook his head, trying to clear the sleep induced cob webs. "Why is he here?"

June shrugged. "That's not all. He's drunk."

"I must be dreaming" Neal mumbled as he stared at June, his mind trying to grasp the information. It had been a normal Friday and Elizabeth had called shortly after landing in California and Peter seemed fine when they departed.

"Neal?"

June's voice brought him back.

"Don't you think you should go downstairs?"

"I guess." Neal followed her into the front room, where Peter sat, huddled with a blanket wrapped around him.

"I forgot to mention he wasn't wearing a jacket."

"Peter?" Neal approached him. "What's wrong? Something happen to Elizabeth?"

"Eliza..beth..." Peter slurred the word as he stared up at Neal. "She's fine...why?"

"Why?" Neal lowered himself to the sofa. "Peter, its 3am. Why are you out in the middle of a snow storm?"

"I thought we could have a drink...together." Peter held up a six pack. "The good stuff for you..." In his other hand was a bottle of wine.

"Did you start without me?" Neal asked as he took the bottle.

"Maybe one..." Peter stumbled as he tried to stand.

"Just one?" Neal reached out to steady the agent.

"OK, maybe two." Peter shook his arm free.

"How'd you get here?"

It took Peter a few minutes to think that over.

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"No." Peter firmly shook his head.

"Taxi?"

Peter nodded. "Took me a while to get one so I started walking..."

"Idiot" Neal mumbled as he took Peter's arm and pulled him towards the staircase.

"Can you make it?"

Peter glanced upward. "Yeah." He handed the beer to Neal and slowly took the first step, wobbling slightly. "Don't..." he barked out before Neal had a chance to help him.

"Wouldn't think of it." Neal glanced at June before following Peter up.

Inside the apartment Peter sought safety with the sofa and plopped down with a small groan. He didn't protest when Neal helped him remove his wet shoes and socks and then burrowed under the blanket Neal threw at him.

"OK, start talking."

Peter eyed Neal briefly before closing his eyes; moaning in the process.

"Peter are you going to be sick?" Neal searched under the sink until he found a bucket and placed it near the sofa. "Please use that if you need it."

"I'm fine." Peter rubbed his eyes.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Neal dragged a chair closer and sat down with his worried eyes glue to the agent. "Peter?"

"I watched." He reached into a pocket and produced the card.

Neal sat back, feeling like he was sucker punched. He inhaled a couple of times, memories of his capture threatening to resurface.

"Peter...why?"

"You wanted me to." Peter countered, with his voice suddenly much clearer.

"Three months ago" Neal whispered. "Why now?"

Peter tried to sit up straighter, though he couldn't look at his friend. He played with the card as the scenes replayed in his mind; seeing what Neal went through...

Peter glanced up. "I'm sorry Neal..."

"Don't." Neal stood and started pacing. He stopped at the counter, glanced at the bottle of wine and then chose something from his own collection. He took a sip and waited for the warm liquid to calm his nerves. It took several minutes until Neal felt he could face Peter. He turned to find the agent slumped over and asleep.

Neal resisted the urge to wake Peter; instead he found an extra pillow and a second blanket and carefully settled Peter in a comfortable position. When he was sure his friend was in a deep sleep, he headed back to his own bed.

* * *

The sun was just rising as another sound woke Neal; he slowly sat and pushed himself up, staggering towards the bathroom.

Peter was draped across the toilet with his head resting on his forearm.

"Peter, are you ok?" Neal asked as he knelt down.

Peter moaned as he slowly lifted his head. "Just dandy" he muttered as he leaned back against the wall.

Neal left and returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a damp towel. He handed both to Peter.

"Thank you." Peter took a slow sip and waited; when the nausea didn't persist he drank the rest. After wiping his face, he stretched his legs out and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Better?"

"I think so."

Neal offered a helping hand and hauled Peter to his feet, shadowing the agent back to the sofa.

Neal went back to the bathroom and when he returned, Peter had fallen back to sleep.

"Not exactly how I planned to spend today" Neal whispered as he started a pot of coffee and then walked towards the balcony, whistling softly at the amount of snow that had accumulated.

Satchmo.

"Shit". Neal swore quietly as he glanced back at Peter. Suddenly he smiled and went searching for his phone.

* * *

Five hours later, Peter opened his eyes and moaned.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

He sat up straighter and glared at Neal.

"No." Peter stood and wavered; once he was steady he headed towards the bathroom. When he returned, he found a newly placed cup of coffee on the table, next to the memory card. He stared at it and then at Neal, who was carefully watching him.

"I wanted so badly to reach in and help you...I almost smashed my screen." He held up his right hand with the knuckles bruised in several places.

"Peter, why now?"

The agent shrugged. "I was alone and I went into the safe and I saw it there; I don't know..." Peter briefly covered his face. "I don't know" he repeated for lack of anything else to say.

"Drink your coffee. I need to get some fresh air."

"Neal..." Peter's voice trailed off as the ex-con made a quick exit, slamming the door in the process.

For an hour Peter sat there and stared at the memory card, running it through his fingers as he tried to figure out what made him watch it; time heals most things but he still saw daily reminders of what Neal went through, even if Neal didn't see it himself.

Peter studied the card so intently he didn't hear the door open and didn't know Neal was standing there until the ex-con cleared his throat.

"Did you figure it out?"

"No." Peter put the card down. "Maybe I thought I could help you."

"You already do" Neal countered as he put a bag on the table.

"Or better understand..."

"No one could" Neal said, pulling out a box of gourmet doughnuts. "Are you hungry?" Neal asked as he grabbed a plain scone.

Peter shrugged. "Why do you come in my office and sit there?"

Neal continued chewing as he thought that over. "Does it matter?"

"To me it does." Peter searched the box and came away with a chocolate covered bear claw. "Elizabeth would kill me if she saw me eating this."

"Would it shock you if I said I relive parts of that every day?"

"After watching, no." Peter chewed carefully. "Maybe you should continue seeing the shrink."

Neal smiled. "Why? She won't tell me anything I don't already know." Neal took a generous bite of his pastry and then poured two glasses of milk, offering one to Peter.

"Is it getting better?"

Neal nodded. "I think so. Just some times...I need to be alone but I can't be alone..."

"So you come into my office" Peter finished. "I leave you alone but you're not alone."

"Something like that." Neal stuffed the last of the scone into his mouth. "You could have just asked me."

"I never know if you want to talk about it. Thought I could get some clues if I watched..."

"And now you wished you hadn't."

"Yeah." Peter shrugged. "It was a lot more than I bargained for...Neal, I don't know what to say, or do."

"You don't say or do anything." Neal faced his partner. "You don't get to change..."

"Neal..."

"No." Neal shook his head, with his hands on his hips and blue eyes on fire. "Everything you've done since this happened I've needed and I've allowed but I don't want your pity..."

"Neal."

"Don't..." Neal held a warning finger up. "Just listen to me, please."

Peter silently nodded.

Neal took a deep breath. "I've needed everything you've done...the food, the company and those odd weekend phone calls just to make sure I was ok. You've been more than a friend but I won't allow you to look at me like that. You saw and you forget; that's how it is."

Peter lowered his gaze, wishing it was that easy.

"And if you ever do something so stupid again..." Neal's voice rose with anger.

"What?" Peter didn't hide his confusion.

"You think getting yourself killed is going to help me. Damn it Peter, how could you be so stupid?" Neal walked away, clearly out of sorts.

Peter sat dumbfounded, unsure if he should follow or remain seated. He settled for another donut and opened the fridge; he reached for a beer but considering how he still felt, he opted for water. Sitting at the table, Peter kept his eyes glued to his donut; as he listened to Neal slams things around in the bathroom.

Five minutes later Neal returned; calmer but still not right in Peter's opinion. Neal's eyes spoke volumes and right now he looked lost, more so than Peter had seen in a long time.

"Sorry" the younger man mumbled as he briefly made eye contact.

"Neal...I'm..." Peter leaned back. "I'm more than a little confused right now."

"I have very few people in my life I can count on...and I almost lost one of them last night."

Peter blinked twice, trying to comprehend his friend's statement.

Neal continued.

"You went out drunk in a snow storm on a Friday night with your wife out of town...without a jacket." Neal paused, letting that sink in. "You could have frozen to death before anyone noticed you were missing...your dog is smart but he can't dial 911 when you don't come home."

Peter glanced Neal's way and held the man's gaze; it took all of Neal's will to hold back the tears that filled his eyes and threatened to escape.

Peter awkwardly smiled, well aware that his own composure was being compromised. He reached across the table and gave Neal's hand a quick squeeze before retreating back to his own space.

"Neal. I'm sorry" Peter whispered, in a steady voice. "You're right and I wasn't thinking..."suddenly he stood. "The dog." He walked around, looking for his shoes. "I have to get home and take the dog out...

"Peter, he's fine..."

"He is?" Peter stopped. "How do you know?"

Neal managed a weary smile. "I called your neighbor hours ago. He's there and he's fine..."

"How? She can't get in..." Peter took a deep breath. "You told her where the spare key was...how'd you find it? Forget it...don't answer that." Peter shook head. "With friends like you..."

"You could just find a better hiding place" Neal said, with a genuine smile playing on his face. "Of course I'll find it..."

"Neal..."

"Sorry. I won't look. I promise." Neal held his right hand up. "By the way, Satchmo is quite smitten with her poodle."

Peter groaned and covered his face. "That poodle has been around the block a few times" he muttered.

"Can they?"

"I don't know." Peter stood. "But if she has another litter..."

"Get a paternity test" Neal suggested as he ducked away from Peter's playful punch.

Neal grew serious as he eyed the offending card sitting on the table.

"Peter, it's time we erase that." He walked away, returning a few minutes later with his laptop.

"Before you do that, can I show you something?"

"There's nothing I need to see" Neal protested.

"There is" Peter countered. "Diana lied to me when she said you were unconscious. Please, I think you need to see this."

"Peter..."

"Please..." Peter pleaded. "If it's too much we'll turn it off."

Against his better judgment, Neal consented with a slight nod. He turned his back as Peter found the right spot.

"OK, you can look." Peter muted the sound. Neal didn't need to hear himself and Peter never wanted to hear it again.

Neal sat as he watched the surreal scene...he was thrashing around in agony as Diana knelt down. No words were needed as she carefully checked his body, searching for a wound that caused all the blood. And he clung to her arm; anguish marred her face as Diana gathered Neal in her arms.

Neal looked away.

Peter rested his hand on Neal's head.

Neal turned back. "I don't remember this" he whispered with a thick voice, as they both watched Diana cradle a semi-conscious battered co-worker.

"Why didn't Jones say anything?"

Peter chuckled. "Knowing Diana, she threatened his manhood."

"Peter, turn it off." The agent obliged; Neal stared at a blank screen.

"Are you ok?"

"No." Neal lowered his head. "But I will be..." He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. Peter hovered nearby with his hand gently massaging Neal's neck.

"Neal, I'm sorry if it was too much."

"It wasn't...I'm glad you showed me." He turned suddenly. "Erase it. Peter, it's time."

Peter nodded. "Go outside and get some fresh air. I'll join you when I'm done." Neal took a couple of steps and stopped, turning to face his friend.

"Peter, thank you... for caring" He smiled weakly.

"Go" Peter ordered, and waited until Neal was gone.

It took only a few minutes to erase a week of torture, but the memories would live with them forever. Peter closed the laptop, and went outside to join his friend.


End file.
